Flat Laptop Conspiracy

I'm writing this

while watching a bi-winged

translucent thing

crawl across

my glowing screen,

inching closer

to the edge of my laptop.

The light source

above my head, is local.

The bug knows it.

I know it.

Even my cats are privy

to the view.

I'm writing this poem

while pondering

a pressurized system

parked next to

the vacuum of infinite space,

with just a mouse

crouched between them.

Eating cheese

and crackers.

The god of your world

tricked you

  into believing

    time and space

            and

            and

gravity rainbows.

Note to self: never fall

for the color

of evil,

unless you are willing

to butcher the spirit of

poetry,

while jerking off

to the sobriety of

a mega giga galaxy going

backward,

without ever knowing

reverse.